Once, the land we now call Bangladesh was home to its indigenous children—the Hindus. They were the sons and daughters of the soil, the original inhabitants. But history changed when Muslims arrived. Over time, many lower-caste Hindus, often marginalized and oppressed, converted to Islam. Today, the descendants of those converts form the vast majority of the population. And the original people—Hindus—have become a persecuted minority in their own land.
Since the Partition of India, Hindus in Bangladesh have been leaving their ancestral homes. Forced to abandon their roots, many flee penniless—to India or wherever safety may be found. What is a homeland worth, if one cannot live safely in it? If being Hindu alone brings persecution and there is no justice, then leaving becomes a matter of survival.
Like almost all Muslim families in Bangladesh, my own ancestors were converts. Our surname is Sarkar. They were likely Kayasthas. I don’t know exactly why they converted. Some say it was the compassion of Sufis. Others mention the cruelty of Brahmins, or the admiration for Muslims who cleared forests and built homes. History is complex. Conversions happened for many reasons.
But the real question is: why can’t Hindus and Muslims live in peace on this land? Why have there been so many outbreaks of violence? In truth, what has happened cannot always be called “riots.” Riots involve two sides. What we have seen, time and again, is targeted persecution of Hindus. This one-sided violence has driven them out of their homes, only to face the harsh realities of refugee life in India.
The Hindu population in Bangladesh is shrinking rapidly. The current Islamist-leaning caretaker government has done nothing to stop Hindu persecution. Instead, it has arrested Hindu leader Chinmoy Krishna Das on unjust charges, while turning a blind eye to jihadist mobs who attack homes, shops, and temples of Hindus.
In 1971, with India’s help, Bangladesh won its independence and declared its vision as a secular state—where Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and Christians would live with equal rights. But that dream was betrayed. Successive reactionary governments used religion to serve their political interests. They courted the ignorant and uneducated, building countless mosques and madrasas. From these institutions, extremist ideologies grew. And now, those very extremists are working to erase Hindus from the country.
After the Babri Masjid demolition in India, I wrote a fact-based novel, Lajja (Shame), about the violence against Hindus in Bangladesh. I later wrote Fera (Return), about the longing for home that haunts Hindus even after they’ve left. These books touched many readers. Yet, even in progressive West Bengal, no one dared to adapt them into plays or films—except for one very small theatre group that staged Fera in Kolkata.
We need more stories—more novels, more films—about the persecution of Hindus in Bangladesh, to spread awareness everywhere, so that no one, nowhere, and no minority of any kind is oppressed. Awareness is essential. Yet many so-called progressive secular voices in India stay silent. They believe being secular means being pro-Islam. They refuse to criticize Islamist terror, jihadist violence, or the discriminatory religious laws that oppress Muslim women. They even oppose the introduction of a uniform civil code based on equality. So, when it comes to Hindu suffering in Bangladesh, they say nothing. That silence has been filled by Hindu nationalists instead.
These same secular voices cry for distant Gaza, but not for the Hindus next door. That hypocrisy has deeply disheartened me.
Still, we—secular freethinkers of Bangladesh—can speak out. We can demand the separation of religion from the state. We can demand a uniform civil code that treats all citizens equally, regardless of religion or gender.
I dream of a Bangladesh where Hindus,freethinkers, and atheists can live in safety. Where democracy thrives. Where secularism, free speech, and human rights are not ideals, but realities. I dream that Hindus return to their ancestral homes, that no law like the Enemy Property Act exists. I dream that freethinking atheists, too, can return to the land of their birth. That I myself can return to my home.
May that day come. And even if it never does—may the dream remain alive.